Page 81 of A Thousand Second Chances

Acknowledging that, however, does little to counter the growing realization that we’re living on borrowed time. Maybe it’s not fair to place so much pressure on him. I’d meant what I said about waiting for him to be ready, and I get how much he’s still hurting over his mom’s death and that stupid promise he’d made her. But after how he pulled away from me two years ago,I need something more than half-hearted reassurance. I need to know that, when push came to shove, this time he’d stay.

How can I trust him not to break my heart again when he won’t even allow himself to envision a life together beyond our present predicament?

“Sure.” I shove my hands in my pockets and start toward the exit without looking at him. “Food sounds great. I’m starving.”

We leave the butterfly garden in silence, and my muddled emotions gradually evaporate. In their place, all that’s left is a heavy emptiness.

The problem with fairy tales is that, sooner or later, they end.

thirty-two

Percy

I screwed up, andI have no idea how to fix it.

Ever since that disastrous conversation in the butterfly garden, Chris has been pulling away. He answers when I respond and smiles at my jokes. He holds my hand readily enough when I’m brave enough to grab it and goes through all the right motions during lunch and the rest of that afternoon. If I close my eyes, I can almost pretend things are the same as they have been.

But his smiles never quite reach his eyes, and though I touch him whenever I can work up the courage, he doesn’t try to steal touches of his own. Not once.

Fuck, I know I messed up. It’s all I can think about as we wander through our usual downtown haunts. We’d talked about touring a resort this afternoon, but he doesn’t bring it up, so neither do I. I can’t get his accusations out of my head.

He’s right—of course he is. I’m letting my anxiety control my life. There’s no reason for me to be so nervous. Chris came out,and sure, it didn’t go as well for him as it could have, but he’d gotten through it. My dad’s never given me any cause to doubt how much he loves me. Neither had my mom. And yet, no matter how much I yearn to be out and proud, part of me remains terrified of disappointing them. Of letting my dad down when he needs me most—of dishonoring my mom’s memory.

She’d died never knowing who I am because I was too afraid to reveal the truth. Her vision of my future had given her the strength she needed to let go, knowing I’d be okay on my own. And it had been based on a lie. How can I come out now when it would be tantamount to admitting she’d never gotten to see the real me? How can I be anything else but the son she knew without letting her down and proving myself unworthy of her love?

So now I’m letting Chris down instead.

And fuck, that’s the bitter truth, isn’t it? I’m making Chris feel worthless and unloved, just like I’d sworn I never would again. No matter what he’d said about living in the moment or taking things slow, this is clearly more than some casual fling to him. It is to me, too. But I don’t know how to reconcile my hopes with my fears. The mere thought of coming out to my dad in the butterfly garden had sent me into a tailspin. How am I supposed to prove to Chris what I want when I can barely admit it to myself?

Maybe the best thing I can do for him is walk away again, even if it makes him hate me all over. Just the idea of it leaves me trembling. I don’t know if I could survive losing him a second time. Whatever other baggage we have, Ineedhim to still be part of my life when this is all over—if not as lovers, then at least as friends.

All the more reason to break things off now so you can preserve what you have left of your friendship before you ruin it forever.

Guilt curdles my insides. Two years ago, I’d been too much of a coward to stand with Chris when he needed me. Now, here I am two years later, too big a coward to walk away when I know I should.

It would be ironic if it wasn’t so pathetic.

“Want to grab some dinner?” I eventually ask in a final gambit to salvage the day.

Chris shrugs.

“Great!” I force a grin I don’t feel. “I know just the spot.”

Chris’ eyebrows shoot up when he sees the restaurant I’ve chosen. “One painful experience wasn’t enough for you?”

Humor’s a good sign, right?“Well, we’ve eaten pretty much everywhere else on the island by now,” I say as I lead him into Huron Blue. “I figure it’s time we reclaim this spot and make it ours as well.”

Instead of laughing or looking excited, his smile dims.What the hell did I say wrong?“Um.” I fumble over my words. “Unless you’d rather go someplace else?”

He shrugs again. I’m really beginning to hate that innocuous gesture. It’s like he doesn’t care anymore where we are or what we’re doing—like he’s mentally checked out.

“Whatever,” he says. “This place is fine.”

I try to hang on to my threads of good humor as a different server leads us to our table. Though I request the same table we had that first disastrous date, it’s already occupied, so we end up a couple spots to the left.Definitely not a bad omen.

“So,” I say while Chris makes a point of studying his menu like it’s a philosophical treatise he needs to memorize. “It’s weird being back here, right? I mean, so much has changed since that night.”

He doesn’t respond, flipping to the next page of the menu.